Searching for the Enemies
Page 16
“He went home,” he whispered.
Magarette figured her husband had enough and thought best to leave him alone, he might not say much, but he’s a good man who protected his family at all costs.
Captain Austin and Jack had come and gave their all, a grateful Mullson will always remember them, true friends indeed.
It was late into the night when two doctors entered the lobby and came toward the Mullson family who had being struggling to stay awake— with the exception of Anna. She sensed they came with updates regarding Johnny P.
Anna got up and moved swiftly toward a woman and a man. “Is he okay,” she said, “Please tell me he’s alright.”
“We are sorry,” the man said. “We tried out best.”
“It was a little too late,” the woman added.
The whole family had come and stood listening. Anna hugged her mom, they cried.
Detective Mullson looked the woman in the eyes. “Doc,” he said. “Can I take a look?”
“Sure,” the woman agreed, glancing at her partner.
They hurried along a hallway until they reached a side door where they entered a small room.
Inside, Mullson stared at Johnny P’s lifeless body, partially covered and resting on a table. “Give me a few minutes by myself,” he said.
The female doctor signaled her colleagues to leave the room.
Mullson had one choice, the temptation overbearing, of all the possibilities he’d lingering in his brain — happiness and financial security should have ranked the highest among his priorities. God, only if he’d more than one wish, how about wishing for more wishes? Not gonna work, only one to be granted. Mullson had been leaning towards Jason’s promise; with his mind already made up he blurted the words and waited.
Early the following morning Detective Mullson and his family were dressed; on Mrs. Mullson mother’s porch they stood waiting for their taxi to take them to the airport.
Further along a rocky road, Pastor James strode towards the house; he shoved aside the metal gate and entered the front yard. “Good morning everybody,” he greeted.
“Good morning Pastor James,” they said.
He climbed to the patio and entered the front door leading to the living room; Mr. Mullson and Anna followed him.
Inside the living room several suitcases were stacked neatly on the floor, a what-not shoved to one side of the room had a television playing.
Pastor James came and stood before Detective Mullson.
“Have a nice trip,” he said. “We surely going to miss yuh guys.” He handed Mullson an old book. “Father Johnson left it for yuh,” he continued.
Mullson took the book and observed the cover, the name read: Secrets to life. “Thank you,” he said, after securing the book under his arm.
The rumbling of a car sent Anna dashing towards the patio. “Dad,” she called. “The taxi is here.”
“Lets go Kevin!” said Detective Mullson, moving toward the front exit.
From the dining room Johnny P entered the living room and came to the front door. “It's all the same,” he said. “Johnny P, Kevin, what's ma name.”
It was ten o’clock on a gloomy morning in New York and Detective Mullson was making a quick stop at the first of two cemeteries he’d planned to visit. Although about an hour from the city, it took him almost two hours to reach his destination. He limped over the grass, all the way to a podium at one corner of the field where a FBI agent stood talking to his colleagues.
“Agent McKoy and Agent Hill were both wonderful people,” he said. “We’ll not stop searching until we find his body. As for Miss McKoy, may her soul rest in peace.” After the ceremony concluded Mullson jumped in his Porsche and sped away, by the time he got back to the city evening had come.
At the second cemetery Detective Mullson stood by a grave and wept. In the distance a mysterious gentleman approached. The man was about Mullson’s height and build, well dressed, carrying a shopping bag.
Mullson for what must have been the millionth time scanned the headstone.
┼
Father Eugene Andrew
1953 - 2018
Got to be a mistake, his mind kept wondering, the year 2020 has not yet ended, and Father Andrew was alive a week ago, wasn’t he?
The mysterious gentleman came and stood behind him. “I'm sorry,” his squeaky voice echoed. He placed the bag on the ground. “This is yours, a gift from—”
Mullson was so caught up in the year Father Andrew died he didn’t realize someone stood behind him.
It was two years ago to be exact that Father Andrew had committed the unthinkable; at least that’s what many people thought after months of speculation. The church had banished his name; to them his crime far worse than a murder. Only Father Andrew knew what had happened. On numerous occasions he gave his version of the story, but people kept ignoring him as if his words meant nothing. He knew he had to tell Mullson the truth.
He recalled holding a metal cross above his head that attracted a bolt of lightning, he was shaking out of control then a spirit leaped out of his body and hovered in midair. The figure watched him as he chanted, “The work of God is stronger than evil!” As the cross fell from his hands and hit the roof, he found himself disappearing into a cloud of fog. He now realized he got tricked by the spirit. Father Andrew had cast himself out of his body, as he fell toward the street below his faded voice echoed, “Help…”
“You have done all you could,” Detective Mullson whispered at the grave. “It's okay to let go.”
Mullson turned around after he felt the presence of somebody behind him, but the man had exited the cemetery. The fellow ripped off a facial mask, revealing his true identity as Wrath.
Again Mullson stared at the headstone and couldn’t grasp the idea of Father Andrew being a ghost who died two years earlier before he met him. The creepy thought made him jump to his feet, bouncing over the shopping bag from which the head of a teenage boy rolled out. The boy who got abducted in the Bronx while purchasing ice cream, the one Mullson blamed himself for failing to protect.
About the Author
“I noticed you leave your daughter in the car,” said R.J.
“It’s a boy,” a lady blurted then faced away.
Doing the right thing is never a good idea, especially in the world R.J. Green created filled with chaos, uncertainty, family morals, Gods, hatred, fantasy — a reality where people fell in love with Tanny Anderson, Detective Mullson, Jack, and are captivated by Engulf’s power and Wrath’s curse. A writer with an imagination larger than life, who’s not afraid to provoke, intrigue…
R.J. Green is currently living in Florida, has a daughter, and is the owner of Masta Recka Publishing Co. BMI.